Shooting Stars
by doublemobius
Summary: Dave's life flashes before his eyes as he makes an important decision and asks a very important question.


You catch yourself staring at him every moment you get. It's ridiculous but you can't help it. Everything about him is perfect, like it was sculpted by angels. His laugh is precious, ringing out like the beautiful melodies he played on his piano. The way his blue eyes sparkled when he talked about his stupid movies or the way he uses hand gestures to help make his point across. You never thought that you would call another man beautiful, but he was an exception. He was beautiful. More beautiful than all that French culture shit that everyone's always talking about and more adorable than a baby panda cuddling a puppy and whatever other baby animal crap people think is cute a thousand times over and, to sum it up in two words, John Egbert.

You've learned to treasure all of his "good morning!" hugs and occasionally hug back when he gives you Friday's extra long "have a good weekend!" hug. You never shrug him off when he curls up next to you during sleepovers, chatting off your ear about the stupid movie you are about to watch. You don't even complain when he falls asleep on your shoulder and drools down your arm. You may encourage it, in fact, as he nuzzles into your side you place your hand on his knee or stroke his hair softly, hoping that no one is watching.

When you were in Kindergarten he used to kiss your cheek and smile at you almost daily. He doesn't do that anymore, though he'll occasionally press his lips to your forehead when he thinks you are asleep.

You both jump up at any excuse to start a mock fight, bouncing around your rooms flinging pillows at each other and wrestling, trying to toss the other to the ground and get him into a headlock until he cried "uncle!"

You always looked out for eachother. The two of you were like one being. If someone even _looked_ at him the wrong way you were there in a flash to protect him, and on the rare occasion someone _dared_ to make fun of him ("your teeth look stupid!") you were there to introduce their faces to the ground and give them a what-for. He had your back in return. If someone gave you a dirty look or called you a freak because of your eyes John would step in, jostle them around and lecture their ears off until they appologized and walked away. Then he would sit on the bench next to you, share some of his lunch with you and tell you how cool you were until the bell rang and he had to go to his class. This was Elementary school.

It happened once again in 7th grade, middle school, the big school bully shoved you to the side, the only kid to stand up to you and your cool kid demeanor. Normally it was you to stare down at the other kids, intimidating pokerface and calm voice willing them to do whatever you wanted them to like putty in your hands. He laughed at you sprawled out on the ground and said horrible, rotten things about your eyes ("you're a mutant _freak_! You're disgusting, freak!") and was about to step on the shades John had gotten you for your birthday. Your hero John threw an open milk carton at him and it splattered all over his face. Like a bull in a china shop, the bully flailed around and was distracted and you and John bolted in the most cool suave way possible (after rescuing your shades first). John sat you down in fron of your lockers and weasled his way into your lap. People stared but it didn't matter, you were upset and fuck them. It wasnt that what the kid had said that got you, you're totally used to hearing that and honestly you didn't care. It was that short moment of being helpless, and the bolt of fear that he was going to break your most precious artifact. John then removed your shades, he was one of the very few allowed to do that, and you flinched away from him. He looked you straight in the eyes, told you "you're beautiful", and kissed both of your eyes.

You had a sort of "unspoken relationship" going on after that. The way you would hold him or the way he would fall asleep in your lap instead of on your shoulder was beyond the boundaries of "bro-hood" and into a more-or-less romantic region that you both passed off as "snugglebros", though you secretly wished to be more than just snuggle_bros_.

You asked him on your first "yes homo" date in 9th grade, for Homecoming. You wish you could've had a camera or photographic memory or something because his reaction was timeless. You kneeled down in front of him, took off your shades and gave him a good, honest grin as you handed him a rose and asked him out. He squealed like a pretty princess girl and flung his arms around your neck chanting "yesyesyesyes!" and he may have teared up a bit but you can't be sure.

You can't say that the dance was as satisfying as asking him out. People sneered as you walked past them, and they tried tripping you as you danced. It normally wouldn't have phased you but John was so traumatized by peoples' reactions that you had to drag him out early. He sniffled into your shoulder on the walk home, and when you stood in front of his house to send him away he whispered "no, I want to stay with you." So you picked him up bridal-style and he giggled a bit and you walked him back to your apartment. (You got tired about 5 minutes in and had to switch to piggyback-style, but he didn't complain.) He fell asleep almost as soon as you put him on your bed and you crawled in next to him after removing his and your own shoes and sending a text to Daddy Egbert. "dance didnt go too well im taking him back to my place hes sleeping hell be ok""sorry"

You didn't go to Homecoming next year. Instead, John's dad made a delicious meal and you had a romantic candle-lit evening out. And by out you mean in John's back yard.

You took him to Homecoming again in 11th grade, and had a satisfactory result. There were a few other homosexual couples brave enough to fight the sea of straights, one of them being your friend Rose and her girlfriend Kanaya. The haters pretty much left you alone (except for a few douchebags which you may or may not have punched).

For your final year you skipped Homecoming and had a little party with some of your friends. Rose and Kanaya were there, along with Jade and Feferi, Vriska and Tavros, and Karkat and Terezi. You have so many weird friends sometimes you wonder how it's possible that you're still alive.

You did go to the prom final year though. Honestly, it wasn't worth leaving your apartment for. The only flipside was seeing John's smile for a few extra hours and getting to dance with him.

After graduating Highschool you were unsure of what you wanted to do, all you knew was that you wanted to stay with John. He's going to collage, he wants to become a biology teacher. You get a dorm with him, take a few classes, still unsure about what you want to do. Maybe something to do with music? Actually, no, you want to be a doctor. Think about it, the patient's life is in _your hands_. You could have all of the power. All of it.

You're 25 now, living in an apartment in downtown Seattle with your long-time boyfriend John. The two of you have a nice little life going on. He has finally reached his dream of becoming a biology teacher, and is damn good at it. Surprisingly enough, you passed Med School and are like, the greatest doctor the world has ever seen! ok no. But you're still pretty awesome at it.

On this particular night you and John are laying on the roof of your apartment, watching for shooting stars. His count was about three higher than yours, but neither of you had seen any in a while and you had both forgotten count and were just laying there cuddling. John is babbling your ear off about cats or something and you finally gather up your man courage and shoosh him.

Placing a finger lightly over his lips and shoosh him gently. He looks at you, wondering what you're up to and you smile at him. He blinks and then smiles back. You shift, moving yourself so that you're on your hands and knees hovering over him and you kiss both of his cheeks and pull him up and you both stand.

He's still looking at you questioningly and you take his left hand in both of yours and look him straight in his beautiful eyes.

"John Egbert," you begin the speech you've practiced a thousand times over in your head and in front of the mirror. "You've been an important part of my life since we were little goober-faced kids running around in the sandbox and blowing milk bubbles in your backyard. You were my hero when we played that horrible game. You've always believed me and trusted me and looked after me. I don't know what I did to deserve you, you should be off with some girl raising a family of cute little Egbert babies-" He opens his mouth to say something but you shoosh him. "-But instead you're here with me. You've been with me for more than 12 years."

"You're the only shooting star I want to see." Damn that was cheesy.

"I love you and I want to be with you forever." You kneel down, and your hand slips to something in your back pocket.

John gasps quietly, his eyes sparkling briliantly in the starlight.

"John," You say, pulling out a small, black velvet box. "Will you marry me?"

He's tearing up and his hands are covering his mouth, but he manages to nod a bit and let out a weak wimper. You stand up quickly and pull him into a crushing hug, and he lets out a happy sob.

You pull back just long enough to place the ring on his finger and then hug him again. It's a simple ring, with no exciting designs or gemstones. He sniffles again and kisses you, again and again, crying and crying like a big baby-

Whoops, you're crying too. Who's the baby now?

But that's okay.

Everything is okay.

And it will be okay.

For a long time to come.


End file.
